


love-hate thing

by orphan_account



Series: Troubled Youth [1]
Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Akabane Karma is a Little Shit, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Conversations, Biracial Character, Bisexuality, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Class 3 E (Assassination Classroom), Collaboration, Dark Past, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern Era, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Humor, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Look, Karma. Our parents are dumbasses, to be honest with you. But, who cares, we got each other.” She grins and his blank expression returns to his normal smug smile.\ in which two childhood friends seek solace in one another after a long period of separation.\ alternate name - "Red Snow"





	love-hate thing

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration - LoveHate Thing by Wale ft Sam Dew
> 
>  
> 
> \ I had the sudden urge to write this during a Christmas Party and after suggesting the idea to a dear friend we decided to craft or together , enjoy !

They sat atop a building, legs dangling off the edge of the roof, caution tossed to the sharp breeze of a winter's night.

The ledge was the sole space of humility they could find that night, the noise of rampant dancing via drunken adults in the manor house below them wasn't appreciated and instead they had retreated to the cold embrace of the dark hours outside rather than indulge in the forbidden decadence her family had pieced together for such an event.

Chalices of champagne and fancy party foods were of no interest for the two. The dark haired girl, at the tender age of twelve young years, had grown wary of dealing with her parents before the celebrations even began and her partner in crime, a red haired boy eighteen months older than her, was all too eager to join her and promptly escape the pull of watless elder women who wished to dance with a ‘supple , handsome young man.’

And so the two found themselves on the roof, the railing did nothing to enclose them there. No, in fact, the boy stood on them, tilting his head back to test the gods.

Would he fall? Perhaps. Though his concerns were elsewhere.

“Get down, Karma. Don't be an idiot.”

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the chilled air. She watched him, sharp green eyes staring intently at his face and glimmered shamrock. His mercury gaze flickered and for a moment it seemed he would listen.

He stuck out his tongue, traversing the railing like a circuit, arms out wide to balance him.

Ah yes. Reckless, fearless Karma, who did what he wanted no matter the consequence.  

“Are you worried about me, eh, Junko?” He snickered at the pink flush that coated her cheeks and in his typical devilish fashion, he grinned at her mild discomfort.

“I was, but not anymore. Perish.” She replied shortly, a blank expression on her face.

She stood from her perch, dusting off the midnight blue satin gown she was been forced into wearing. Her hands found a place on her hips and she strolled idly to where he stood, her kitten heels clicking against the tile.

“You wound me.” He says

“You don't care.” She retorts.

He laughed again, nodding in agreement at her.

“Course I don’t. Anyways, I know you’d miss me too much if I was gone.”

Now it was her turn to laugh, the haughty snort was high in pitch to suit the loud ‘Ha!’ that followed. She pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Please! I managed fine before I met you, I could do it again.”

It was a lie, they both knew that, but as Karma leapt from the rails back onto the safety of the roofs surface, they laughed about it. Bathed in snow and the light of the full moon.

He turned his gaze to the patio below, the doors had been opened and out stepped the adults, most scantily clad despite the cold and others dressed as if they were trekking through the Arctic. Karma leaned on the rails and propped his head up with his palm. He glanced boredly at them, they were stumbling around, spilling expensive alcohol all over the snow covered lawn, creating footprints that only served to show what drunk, babbling idiots they were. His parents could afford to come to some dumb Christmas party but had forgotten about their only childs birthday.

“Are you angry?” mused Junko, standing beside him and taking note of the sudden dip in atmosphere.

She hummed, wiggling her fingers absentmindedly and waiting for his reply.

When he doesn’t speak she frowned and took his hand in her own, tanned skin seeming darker against his.

“Look, Karma. Our parents are dumbasses, to be honest with you. But, who cares, we got each other.” She grins and his blank expression returns to his normal smug smile.

“Oh, and I have something for you, stay here.”

He raised a brow, but nods and watches her go. She disappeared through the door that led back into the house, a solid five minutes passed, five minutes he spent listening to the nonsensical ramblings of intoxicated adults.

She returned with a sizeable box, wrapped up in a deep red shiny paper and a thick green ribbon. Her grin was wide, confident, as if she hadn't doubted he would be happy with his gift, not that Karma had expected anything at all. Her birthday had long gone and in all honesty he had forgotten the date.

She took a seat on the ground, patting the space beside her. He rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face.

“If this is a prank I’ll toss you over the side.” He spoke casually.

“You don't have the balls. Open it, stupid.” She prodded him with her finger and he yielded, brushing her hand away, delicately tearing the paper open and then opening the box inside.

Something big and black sat at the bottom, on top lay an assortment of strawberry flavored confectioneries, a pair of red knuckle-dusters and a framed photo of them doing something stupid, complete with a note.

He tried to suppress his smile, but found it difficult to do so. He carefully maneuvered the objects in the box and pulled out what lay at the bottom. A black cardigan, way too big for him, he could tell from a glance.

“You can erm… You can grow into it.” She waved her hand sheepishly, laughing a little under her breath.

“Thanks Junko.” He said, flashing her a charming smile, different from his cheshire-cat-esque grin. Colour rushed to the applez of her cheeks, painting her light brown skin a soft shade of pink.

“Yeah, yeah, don't mention it.”  

  


.

  


Karma pulled on his cardigan, yawning and staring blankly at the clock on his wall. His bedroom was plain, aside from the huge bed that sat against the back wall closest to the window and the few photos directly across from it, there wasn't much in the large space. One wall was painted a rich red colour, similar to that of cherries, the rest were stark white. His mother had insisted on getting him a mirror, so that stood in a corner. His drawers were wooden and black, uninteresting as most things were to Karma Akabane.

His eyes trailed to one of the many photos on the wall, several of his days in Junior High, memories returned to him in bright splotches of cyan hair and yellow tentacles. The largest one was a class photo taken on graduation day, everyone smiling as if they hadn't murdered their teacher not long before. That had been the first time Karma cried for as long as he could remember.

He didn't like to dwell on the past often, it resurfaced things he preferred to forget, but with not much else to think about and the usual boredom of his suddenly mundane life began to claw at his shins again he was left to sort through the things he remembered.

A face came to mind; dark skin that he had once considered unusual for someone of Japanese descent (a viewpoint that was promptly kicked out of him by a fairly unhappy girl who had never looked more blatantly insulted in all the years he'd known her.), lush dark hair that never reached past shoulder length, always skillfully chopped the moment it got too long for her liking. Bright green eyes- sometimes chartreuse, sometimes parakeet, even seafoam if the light hit them at a specific angle. A wide grin that sprouted nothing but trouble and mischief. Hands that seemed to naturally fit in his grasp on the brief occasions they rested there. Features of a young girl he hadn't seen since that night almost five years ago.

He tugged at his cardigan, it was growing smaller now, soon it would be tight around his muscular arms but despite who he was (cool, unbothered, nonchalant Karma) he was almost hesitant to stop wearing it. It, along with one of the pictures on his wall, was the only reminder of her he had. She had disappeared that night, as if she had never existed in the first place and though he was always curious as to where she went, he was more than used to people coming and going in his life. The sudden chime of the house phone solidified that.

Sluggishly, Karma walked out into the cream coloured hallway and grabbed the phone from its dock. The house smelt almost entirely of indian spices and musky incense, both brought back from his parents annual excursion the year before, which he had been denied permission to attend. “School.” They said, knowing that Karma was much too smart to fall behind with any of his college work.

“Akabane Household, who’s this?”

“Karma, it's me!”

“Oh, hello mum.”

“Hi, dear, how are you coping? No parties, no girls?”

“I’m fine. No, you don't have to worry.”

“How has school been?”

“School is boring, as usual.”

“You always say that, Karma! Anyways, do you need anymore allowance, I’ll have your father wire it to your account.”

“No I still have money from last month.”

“Good good. Right, I have to go! We’ll be home for Christmas! Please don’t into anymore fights.”

“Okay. Bye.”

He rolled his eyes skyward, putting the phone back after another fruitless conversation with mother. These happened twice a week, though recently they had been rising in frequency for whatever reasons.

He stretched, returning to his room to retrieve his bag and his jacket. The photo caught his eye and he hadn't even noticed he was walking towards it until it was in his hand. He stared at it, it was nice: a picture of himself and Junko Alonso, the ‘afro-jap sunshine child’ (her words, not his) he met at a dinner party when they were eight. They were at an amusement park, high off thrills and giddily abusing the photobooth. It had been six years since that picture was taken, five since she’d gifted it to him and four since he'd taken time to study it.

He felt strange, gazing on it after so long was odd, disturbing almost. But he hadn't seen himself so happy in ages.

 

Three knocks at the front door interrupted whatever he had going for him. He swung his bag over his shoulder and hooked his jacket under his arm, jogging downstairs with little to no motivation. He opened the door to face the small cyan haired boy whom he had grown close with.

Nagisa offered him a soft smile, then his face turned neutral as usual.

“Hey, you ready to go?”

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?”

“Because you promised and if you dont you owe me.”

“Right.”

A trip to wherever to do whatever for Nagisa wasn't the best he could do with his time, hell, the redhead had forgotten what today was even about but Karma was out of options. Both knew the smaller teen had no real leverage on Karma, but both had their fair share of embarrassing blackmail ready at a moment’s notice, so really it was useless for either of them to argue.

He gestured Nagisa to the car in his driveway, some fancy model with black rims and tinted windows. They both slide in, the radio is turned on and as Nagisa taps in address into the GPS, Karma pulls out of the driveway and steers the car off along the road.

“What are we even doing again?”

“We’re just going to help my friend pack her removal van.”

“And why did I get dragged into it?”

“You're the strongest person I know.”

Karma snorts, leaning back in his seat and turning at an intersection as per the request of the hollow electronic voice over the GPS.

“Fair enough, do I get paid for my benevolence?”

“If you stop trying to get me to stroke your ego.”

Karma snickered. “Fine.”

The rest of the drive was quiet, not silent, occasionally they broke out into their usual banter. Karma would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy spending time with Nagisa, most of his fellow Class 3-E students had gone off lord knows where, he hadn't seen most of them since graduation. But despite the nerving feeling Nagisa used to give off, they remained close friends. Nagisa may have been the one person Karma didn’t underestimate.

 

They pulled up outside a posh-looking condo towards the edge of the city. The whole place looked harsh and artificial, with large glass panels along the upper floor, grass cut so low it looked like carpet. A singular moving van was stationed outside, a nondescript logo was plastered onto the side, generic as ever. The back was opened, the trucks trunk filled with several large boxes, with more on the pavement waiting to be loaded.

Karma parked up and as Nagisa slid out of the car he gazed, disinterested, through the windshield. The blue haired boy approached a young woman who leaned against the closest wall. Smoke appeared in a ring in front of her, she must've been smoking, Karma thought. She drew Nagisa in for a hug, it was short, they were approached by a pair of men dressed simply soon after. They spoke, though they are faced away enough to prevent Karma from reading their lips. She waved them off, her hair fluttering in the breeze, he muttered her words to himself, watching her lips move as she addressed Nagisa.

“Introduce me to your friend, Nags!”

And with a nod, Nagisa led her over. Karma wasn't too interested, curious maybe, but he wasn't the kind of guy to mindlessly gawk over a girl, over anyone really and though his eyes followed them, he had grown bored of looking before they’d even reached his car.

“Ooh, nice ride! Are they rich or something, Nags?” There was something familiar in her voice.

“Something like that.”

The passenger side door opens and looking bored as ever, Karma turns his head to glance at--

 Silence.

The girl parted her lips.

 

“--Junko?”

He whispered sharply.

She stared at him, those same chartreuse eyes he’s secretly missed widening.

Junko stares at Karma Akabane, her childhood friend and Karma stares back.

“Karma?” Her voice cracked, a sudden look of confusion spread across her face. Her hand was planted firmly on her neck, as it had been since he had said her name. There was something in her eyes, a mix of disbelief and relief that is quickly shattered by her faking a smile.

“Name’s Michiko, nice to meet ya.” She chirped, visibly preventing her voice from shaking. She mouthed something to him, something along the lines of ‘Play Along’ then removed her hand from her neck and stepped back, straightening her back as she shuffled away from the car.

Nagisa gestured for Karma to get out, now he was intrigued, maybe even a little concerned (if he was he didn’t show it).

  
  


“Michiko?”

Junko hadn't noticed just how fast time went until the initial tap on the shoulder from her dear friend Nagisa broke her out of her state of basically sleepwalking with her eyes wide open. She blinked, looking up at him, the young woman crouched a few inches away from the floor, taping the carpet that had been rolled up securely for travel purposes.

“Sorry, yeah, whats up?”

“We done?”

“Oh, right, yeah, this is the last of it. Smart idea to get upstairs out of the way.”

She rose, tucking it under her arm. She yawned, her expression melting into something akin to exhaustion. Truth being, the woman hadn't slept in several days. Something she neglected to tell her cyan haired friend.

Instead she steeled herself and half-carried, half-dragged the rug to the moving van.

The sun was still high in the air, beating down surprisingly hard for a cool day in autumn. She squinted, rays hitting her face at imposing angles which seemed to want nothing more than to blind her

“Watch it.”

She swerved, narrowly avoiding knocking Karma over with a rolled up carpet. Her eyes had glued themselves to his cardigan, the very same one she had gifted him all those years ago, it had been way too big when first bought, but now it was entirely too small; defining his muscular arms and broad chest and sending her mind to a place she did not consider acceptable seeing as they had not interacted for a solid five years. She withdrew her gaze.

“Sorry.” Junko apologized curtly, tossing the carpet to the removal men after Karma had dumped his own box. They don't speak again, not until the van is closed off and Junko had paid the men.

“That's everything.” She mused, dusting off her hands.

“Great! That didn't take that long.” Nagisa said.

“That's cause there was five of us.” Karma interjects.

“Well, yeah.”

“Thanks for the help, boys.” Junko stretched, her voice is polite but her gaze was solely on Nagisa, who fumbles around in his pocket. He frowned, repeated his actions, then sighs.

“Left my phone upstairs, I’ll be right back.”

He doesn't see Karma slide into his back pocket.

Junko shifted on the spot.

Karma looked at her, seeking answers she wasn't ready to give.

“So--”

Her attempt at small talk failed and he had her pinned to the car before the rest of the sentence escaped.

She stared at him, her back against the cool glass of his tinted windows.

“Karma. What are you doing?”

He briefly squinted at her, his palms flat on either side of her head. Seeing as she wouldn't tell him on her own he leaned closer and questioned her promptly.

"Where did you go?"

"Sorry? What?" 

“You’ve been gone for nearly five damn years, _Junko_.”

“ _Michiko._ ” She hissed under her breath.

“And what's that about? This _Michiko_ bullshit _,_ that's not your name.” He retorted.

She looked skyward, biting her lip and fighting to stop the flush that had began to spread on her face. She made a noise reminiscent of a cat struggling.

“Look I can't explain right now, I’m sorry.”

Even in her ears those words sounded hollow. 

“You can't just say _sorry_ after reappearing in my life after five years _Michiko._ ” Karma spoke calmly, his voice in its usual bored drawl, but his eyes were fiery.

A neat eyebrow is raised. She laughed, a sudden spike of bitterness tinting the sound.

“Not like you looked for me.”

“We were kids, Junko.”

“Mich--”

“Shut up.”

Their voices dropped to tense whispers.

“Shut up??? No, don't fucking start Karma Akabane or I swear to god I’ll--”

“What are you doing?” Nagisa’s voice cut clean through the air. A thread in the back of his mind snaps, he returns to his normal self.Karma lets her go and Junko laughs way too awkwardly not to bring attention to herself.

“Some guy was whistling at her all pervy so I pretended to be her boyfriend to fuck with him.” He lied smoothly, retrieving Nagisa’s phone from his back pocket. There's a look in his eye that suggests he knows that isn't true, he doesn't pry.

“It was in the car.” He lies again, handing it to the shortest of the trio.

“Oh, thanks.”

The brief silence that engulfed them was lethal, the stagnant air from his two friends made Nagisa clear his throat.

“Lets get that stuff to your new place and then get something to eat.”

There's a collective sigh of relief and the three of them agree on the idea.

  


.

 

It is dark and dreary, she can taste blood and feels the cold snow seep through her coat and stick to her skin like napalm in reverse. Her head spins but she is not moving. The sudden smell of smoke and burning blood only made her initial panic worse. The crunching of snow causes her to still, there's a distinct groaning that belongd to her mother, who is sprawled out against the snow with the tilted car digging into her steadily freezing body. She screams, causing the child to tense, but she doesn't move, as much as she wants to; she wants to use the strength of an army and push that car off of her. She wanted to run far away. But she couldn't. Fear stilled her, though her body ached to shiver, just to fight off the imposing chill of the snow. Her body was bloodied enough to appear beyond repair, perhaps she would be after this. Better than being dead. Or maybe not.

Her mother was still screaming, her wails for help turning desperate once her eyes laid upon the corpse of her husband, eye wide and bloodshot, with a clean hole through his forehead and the contents of his brain leaking out on the snow. She screamed his name, hot tears running down her placid face, the normal dark tones of her cheeks turning blue with frostbite. The footsteps in the snow stopped by the child, she didn't move and held her breath, the ice and snow and sleet cut into her face, dying the ground an even deeper shade of red. She felt the sturdy sole of a boot against her side but made no effort to move, playing dead. They left her alone, stalking over to her mother who pleaded for help, her throat raw and her voice hollow. For a moment there seemed to be hope, but the silencer that was plucked from the person’s pants caused her breathing to become manic. She was dead before she could scream again.

  
How much time passed? Between the bullet removing her mothers innards and someone noticing the wreckage? 

She didn't know. 

Junko did not move until she heard police sirens and she screamed as the paramedic grabbed ahold of her, that gave them a fright. They had assumed she was unconscious, not dead-- her pulse was going strong, fierce with panic. She was carried to the back of an ambulance, wrapped in several blankets and spoken to, but she could not hear their words.

She replied to their questions, but her hooded gaze was distant and she barely understood their words. 

No, she couldn't hear anything but her mother's screams.

  



End file.
